Page 120 of The Most Dangerous Games

“I can’t get into it. But I’m getting close to finding out who the real enemy is,” he says.

“It sounds ominous,” Alek says.

“It is.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Alek says.

“They’ve already made one run at me,” Jimmy says.

Alek’s pulse spikes. “Where? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Jimmy says. “But I’m on their radar now. I’m sure they’re willing to do anything to stop me.”

He exhales sharply.

“And Alek—one more thing. I need to tell you what I learned about the chain of command—”

The next thing Alek hears is the roar of a car engine, and then the screech of tires. A horn. A hard impact—metal, maybe, or a body slamming a door. And then—

Nothing.

Alek freezes, staring into the trees like she can see London through them.

“Jimmy?” she whispers.

No answer.

Dead air.

82.

Jack McHenry used to be able to go all day and all night: All day on oil rigs, all night out hunting trouble wherever the next party was. His buddies from the rig used to call him Jack-O-Lantern, because he never turned out the lights.

It all happened in another lifetime.

Jack slept most of the afternoon on a couch in the living room of his cottage in Tuscany. Once he’s finally awake, he’s still what his salty dad used to call dead tired after a grueling—and tragic—couple of days. But The Host has told him and the others that attendance at the dinner is mandatory.

Holy crap, he thinks.

Only eleven of us left.

What was that old book? And Then There Were None. Was it a movie, too? Jack isn’t sure. He just remembers that in the story, one character after another after another was killed off, their number called.

When’s my number going to come up?

He used to ask himself that question while deployed in active war zones, just about every day.

Jack’s half asleep, or just hammered by jet lag, when he hears an alert from the cell phone that had been waiting for him in his cottage. The note said he could use it to contact loved ones. But Elena was gone. And all the other people he loved the most—with the exception of Rupert Chadwick—are here with him in Tuscany.

He immediately heads out the back door, pretending he’s taking a leisurely stroll into the woods surrounding the property. He discreetly checks the phone and sees a text sent an hour ago.

Jack goes through the painstaking process of reading what is a rather long text, one that had come in while he was asleep. Of course Jimmy has this number.

JM: Can’t talk. Bigger than I thought. I now might know where to find the Big Guy. For now, gotta keep moving, because pretty sure they’re on to me. Will tell you everything the next time we talk.

If something hasn’t happened to me.

Watch your back, Ranger.